Dance of Death by Edward Marston Page A

eventually got near their destination. Since he was a stranger to the area, the driverstopped to ask directions from a passer-by. Two minutes later, the vehicle was turning into a tree-lined avenue with a series of detached houses down each side. Audrey Pattinson’s address had been found in the appointment book along with the addresses of everyone else connected to the dance studio. Marmion could see why Catherine Wilder had been so loath to part with the book. It was a detailed record of the life she’d shared with her husband and, as such, would be a treasured memento.
    ‘There’s one thing I couldn’t find in here, Joe,’ he said.
    ‘What was that?’
    ‘There’s no record of payment to the accompanist.’
    ‘Perhaps she played for nothing.’
    ‘I can’t believe that he’d exploit her like that.’
    ‘You have to be ruthless in business.’
    The car stopped at the kerb and they got out. Marmion led the way up the little path and rang the doorbell. A moment later, Martin Pattinson opened the door and identified them from press photographs.
    ‘I’ve seen you two gentlemen before, I fancy,’ he said.
    ‘Then you’ll know our names, sir. Are you Mr Pattinson?’
    ‘I am, indeed. You must have come to interview my wife.’
    ‘Is she aware that …?’
    ‘I’m afraid so, Inspector Marmion. Be gentle with her, please. She’s in a very delicate state. Working with Mr Wilder meant a great deal to her.’ He ushered them into the living room. Audrey was in a chair, staring blankly ahead of her. ‘There are some detectives from Scotland Yard who wish to speak to you, my dear.’
    ‘What?’ She came out of her reverie. Seeing the visitors, she became flustered. ‘Oh, I wasn’t expecting anyone to call.’
    ‘We were hoping you might be able to help us, Mrs Pattinson.’
    ‘I’m sure that she will, Inspector,’ said her husband. ‘May I stay or would you rather not have me in the way?’
    ‘The choice is yours, sir. I suspect that Mrs Pattinson would prefer you to remain and we’re very happy with that.’
    Audrey nodded and beckoned for her husband to sit beside her. Marmion and Keedy were waved to an armchair apiece. While the inspector held the appointments book in his hand, Keedy took out his notebook and pencil. As they settled down, they each stole a quick look around the room. A third of the space was taken up by a grand piano. On the mantelpiece was a large, framed photograph taken at the Pattinsons’ wedding. He was wearing an army uniform and his wife was in a white bridal dress. Both of them looked to be well into their thirties.
    ‘What would you like to know, Inspector?’ prompted Pattinson.
    ‘Well, we really want to find out where Mr Wilder went yesterday evening. That’s our starting point. When did you last see him, Mrs Pattinson?’
    Audrey leant forward. ‘I played for him at a class in the afternoon and left there about three o’clock. That was the last time I …’ Tears threatened but she made an effort and kept them at bay. ‘That was the last time I saw him alive.’
    ‘Do you have any idea where he went after that?’
    ‘Well, he had two more classes, of course, and that would have taken him on to five o’clock. Mr Wilder used music from the gramophone for those.’
    ‘Why did he do that, Mrs Pattinson?’ asked Keedy. ‘Were you too exhausted after playing the piano for four hours?’
    ‘Not at all,’ she replied, huffily. ‘I’ve played for five or six hours on many occasions. It’s not continuous accompaniment, you see. MrWilder gives instruction first. It’s only when certain figures are perfected that he’s ready to dance to music. When some of the beginners come to a class, I sit on my hands most of the time.’
    ‘Did Mr Wilder tell you where he was going that evening?’ asked Marmion.
    ‘No, Inspector, and it wasn’t my place to ask.’
    ‘His wife said that he’d gone off on business somewhere.’
    ‘Then that’s what he did.’
    ‘He